Asylum
by gingerlizard91
Summary: In a secret Storybrooke asylum, Regina conceals the girl once called Belle from Mr. Gold's watchful gaze. But that won't stop Emma from reuniting the would-be lovers and bringing down Madame Mayor in the process. Gold/Belle.
1. Chapter 1

"You have friends in high places, Mr. Gold," Emma said as she unlocked the cell door.

"I _am _high places," Mr. Gold replied. He shifted on the bench and cast a lop-sided grin at her. "Am I, as they say, free to go?"

"You're going to need to fill out some paperwork with the secretary, but . . . yeah, you can go."

Emma clipped the ring of keys back onto her belt and returned to her desk, keeping a sharp eye on the crippled pawnbroker as hauled himself to his feet. He moved stiffly, haltingly, as if he'd aged ten years in the mere twelve hours he'd been in the cell. Emma knew Mr. Gold was faster and more spritely then he made himself look to the inhabitants of Storybrooke. When, then, had caused such a dramatic change in his disposition?

"My coat and cane, if you please, Sheriff," he muttered, straightening and dusting off his tailored suit with an air of repugnance.

Shaken from her thoughts, Emma reached under the desk to where Mr. Gold's cane had fallen, and retrieved his neatly-folded coat from one of the desk's larger drawers. She returned to the open cell and handed both to him, putting sufficient distance between herself and his outstretched hands.

"I imagine Moe's family will want to press charges," Emma remarked, "but knowing you . . ."

"A slap on the wrist," Mr. Gold finished, smiling grimly as he donned his coat. "Perhaps some monetary compensation. That'll be the end of it, I assure you."

Emma knew he was right, and she couldn't to bring herself to challenge the statement. Something else was bothering her – something small, shiny, and white that Mr. Gold was attempting to conceal in his other hand.

A teacup.

Emma mistakenly looked straight up into Mr. Gold's eyes, and was met with quiet rage behind the dark brown orbs, coupled with the immediate sense that she'd seen something she hadn't been meant to see. Mr. Gold hastily slipped the teacup into his coat pocket.

"Good day to you, Sheriff Swan," Mr. Gold said, and turned on his heel.

He was barely across the threshold of the door when Emma's mouth acted faster than her mind.

"You must have loved her a lot if a teacup was that important to recover."

Mr. Gold stopped. His free hand flew to the bulge in his pocket where the teacup rested. Then, he turned around.

For the first time since her arrival in Storybrooke, Emma pitied her uneasy ally against the mayor. She had done enough private investigation back in Boston to know when a person is trying to cover their true feelings, and Mr. Gold was currently a textbook example.

After a few moments of tense silence, Mr. Gold shakily said, ". . . Yes. I suppose I did."

Daring to venture a bit further, Emma said, "What happened to her?"

Emma had expected him to leave without another word. Instead, he left her with three.

"My own foolishness."

An inexplicable wave of sadness washed over Emma. She held his gaze, searching for more answers. None came.

Mr. Gold turned again and left, this time for good.

Several minutes after Mr. Gold's departure, a thought struck Emma. She furrowed her brow and searched her recent memories, double-checking the validity of the idea.

Emma had made Mr. Gold empty his pockets when they'd arrived at the station. She'd taken all of his personal belongings and meticulously inspected his person for any missed items.

There had been no teacup. But he'd left with a teacup, which meant it must have been given to him from someone outside the cell.

And who had been the only person to approach him?

Regina.

Emma had just found a new side project.

A/N: God, Robert Carlyle is just the greatest, isn't he? I have so much material to work with.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Now that I'm not rushing to submit anything, I finally have time to give you all a_

_BIG HELLO AND THANK YOU_

_because dear God, I was not expecting the amount of notifications last night telling me you guys had reviewed, favorited, and put my story on alert. After one short chapter! I'm flattered – it's a nice way to return to this website (haven't ventured here much since my CSI days)._

_As for this story, this chapter is going to be short, too, as a kind of filler while I decide exactly where I want the plot to go. My goal is to have it flow like an episode would – which means that while I can't necessarily guarantee a happy ending, I can guarantee a Gold/Real World Belle reunion at some point. Where that points falls is up for debate._

_Thank you for your support! Should you feel like reviewing, I'm open to constructive criticism._

CHAPTER TWO

-A FEW MONTHS LATER-

Regina Mills was behind schedule, and she wasn't pleased about it.

An impromptu meeting with Sydney Glass on the progress of his espionage work around Emma Swan had delayed her departure from her office substantially. Sydney bore no news of value to Regina; she suspected it was his way of not only displaying his perceived importance, but a more subtle means of spending time with her. On the one day of the month where she'd made plans to visit the asylum.

Storybrooke Asylum was, by no means, a well-kept secret in the quaint coastal town; rather, it was a wholly ignored institution. If you weren't looking for it, it wasn't there. But if you knew it was there, you knew exactly where to go. Regina kept her fingers dipped in several of Storybrooke's metaphorical pies, and the asylum was no exception.

Regina could not recall her first time at the asylum. It seemed as though memories of earlier visits to the quiet girl in Cell Ninety-One had effortlessly faded into the bubble of time that had enveloped the town until Emma Swan's appearance. An unfortunate side effect of the curse. As Regina descended the concrete steps to the nurse's desk, she felt calm, perhaps even content. She had no concerns about Gold's knowledge of this place – there were things in Storybrooke that even he knew not.

Once a month was all Regina required to know the girl was well and truly locked away.

"Good afternoon, Nurse Kesey," Regina said, smiling with the benevolence of a hungry lioness. "You know who I'm here to see."

Nurse Kesey, usually a cool, collected woman, looked apprehensive. "Madame Mayor, there have been some . . . changes in the patient's behavior."

Any contentment left in Regina's expression fell instantly. "What changes?"

Nurse Kesey rose. "It might be better if I accompanied you to her cell."

Regina did not bother to wait. She swept down the hall. Nurse Kesey rushed to catch up to her and then began explaining the situation. "It started a few weeks ago," she said, "not too long after your last visit. Her temperament is becoming increasingly erratic. I've caught her crying for no reason in the middle of the night. She keeps some of the other patients awake."

They rounded the corner. "She's done that before, has she not?" Regina asked.

"Yes, but never with this intensity."

"What else?"

As they neared Cell Ninety-One, Regina heard it. It was faint at first, and barely perceptible. Regina stared back at Nurse Kesey with a mixture of fury and alarm. She took a few steps closer.

The girl was singing.

Her voice was soft, raspy, and full of melancholy and despair. Regina imagined she was hearing a songbird's dying melody. Tentatively, Regina stood directly in front of the girl's cell, put her ear to the door and listened with bated breath. The lyrics were crystal clear.

"_I'm a little teacup, short and stout_

_Here is my handle, here is my spout._

_When I get all steamed up, hear me shout, _

'_Tip me over and pour me out.'"_

When the girl had finished, she merely started again from the beginning. And again. And again. Regina stood transfixed for several minutes.

"Teapot," Regina said quietly.

"I'm sorry?" Nurse Kesey said.

"The song," Regina said, slowly and deliberately, "is about a teapot. Not a teacup."

Nurse Kesey looked confused. "I beg your pardon, Mayor, but I hardly think that matters."

Regina instantly rounded on the nurse. "It matters more than you know," she snarled. "I want round-the-clock supervision on her. Any more changes in her condition must be reported to me immediately." Regina briskly walked back down the hallway to the exit. Before slipping around the corner, she added, "Oh, and one more thing: if you withhold any more details from me, I'll have your job. _And then some_."

The fear on Nurse Kesey's face was evident. Regina had left an impression.


End file.
